


surrender

by radialarch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Boot Worship, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Restraints, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26119240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: Felix's boot, planted square between Dimitri's legs, smells faintly of leather and wax. Dimitri's mouth waters. "Felix," he says, a hoarse, wet sound. If he shifted his hips a fraction, he'd be rutting on it.He doesn't. He keeps still, straining with the effort. There are tremors running down his arms, down his spine, a whine caught in his throat. Eye closed, like that might make it easier, like he's not aware of Felix in every stretched-thin nerve."Look at you," says Felix, low, as tender as he gets. "I don't even have to touch you."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	surrender

**Author's Note:**

> look, what happened was that i saw @DickSeason's [bootkink art](https://twitter.com/DickSeason/status/1296262826642878465) and then it ate my entire brain. please free me.
> 
> thanks to m for the, uh, google :D
> 
> content notes: dimitri uses "dick" and "hole" to refer to his anatomy. felix has some issues around being touched intimately here. the root cause is left ambiguous, and dimitri and felix work around it with full consent and communication,

Sometimes, Felix doesn't like to be touched.

They've been kissing for a while, Felix heavy in Dimitri's lap, and Dimitri's just slid his fingers down to the hem of Felix's shirt when Felix pushes away, abruptly, off Dimitri altogether. He's halfway to the window by the time Dimitri sits up on the bed, holding himself still, the line of his back tight with tension. He wipes off his mouth with one hand, jerky, and says, low, "Sorry."

"Felix."

"I know," says Felix. "I know you think it's fine, I know you don't mind, I _know_ —" He breaks off, lets out a sharp exhale. When he turns back to Dimitri, his mouth is pinched thin. "I had plans for you."

"Oh," Dimitri says, and his mouth goes embarrassingly dry. Felix plans meticulously, as a general for battle, until there's no option left for Dimitri but surrender. The last time, he'd wrung orgasm after orgasm out of Dimitri, his hand sunk into Dimitri up to the wrist, and for days after Dimitri had been unable to look at Felix's bare hands without blushing. "Next time, then."

"I didn't want it to be next time," Felix snaps, and his eyes flick away. "I wanted you."

Dimitri says, honestly, "You have me."

The severe line of Felix's brow unbends, just a fraction. "Dimitri."

"I mean it." There's Felix, drawing closer, a long curving route back toward the bed. Dimitri doesn't reach with his hands, lets his words do it instead. "Any way you want, or not at all; I'm not going anywhere." 

Felix's laugh is brittle but real. "Don't know if that'd be appropriate," he says. "Sometimes, the things I want to do to you..." The tension ebbs out of him in reverse, slow when it'd risen like thunder. He's only contemplative when he says, with the hint of a question, "You're still—" 

"Yes," says Dimitri, with a shift of his thighs. There's no point in lying when just a touch from Felix can make Dimitri's body sing. "But I can take care of it." They've amassed an extensive collection of toys over the years, well-made and well-loved. Dimitri is, by now, intimately familiar in how to wring pleasure from his body. But from the way Felix's eyes are dark and assessing, Dimitri suspects tonight he'd like to stay. When Felix stays to watch, he likes Dimitri to use his fingers, and that's a different experience altogether. 

Instead, Felix steps even closer, rigidly controlled. The firelight flickers over his face, sparks the honey-gold of his eyes. "If I restrain you, will you be good?"

"Oh," Dimitri says again, dizzied. He's suddenly, shockingly aware of the hot thrum between his legs. "If that's what you—yes. Yes."

"Okay." A muscle jumps in Felix's jaw. When he next speaks, his voice is nearly casual. "Get undressed."

Felix must know how that affects him. For a moment Dimitri's hands won't move. Then he mechanically starts on the lacing of his shirt. His fingers feel thick and unbearably clumsy, and hurrying would make them worse. He nearly rips the shirt pulling it over his head, anyway, starts on the trousers with heat flaring down his neck. Folds the clothing away, neatly, before he allows himself to look up.

Felix has shed his coat and the loose outer shirt he likes, baring the strong muscle of his arms. Otherwise he hasn't taken off a thing, not even his boots. He could shrug his shirt back on and be ready for a council meeting in the next moment, while Dimitri stands in front of him entirely bare save the eyepatch.

In his hands, Felix is holding a mass of rich dark leather. "Best if you kneel, I think," Felix says. "Hands behind your back."

There's thick carpet spread over the wooden floor of their bedchamber. It's easy for Dimitri to sink down, a slow syrupy fall, until his knees sink into the wool. He doesn't turn to look when Felix circles behind him, keeps still with awareness prickling down his spine, but he can't help the convulsive twitch of his fingers when Felix touches his crossed wrists.

"That's fine," Felix says before Dimitri can apologize. "Should've warned you." He keeps his hand there for a moment, burning on Dimitri's skin, and then a shift of air, a muffled sound. Felix, kneeling behind him to work. "Keep your hands where I put them, all right?"

Dimitri can't speak; he nods. That's Felix coaxing Dimitri's hands apart, rearranging Dimitri to his own liking: Dimitri's forearms laddered across his back, fingers laid flat along the opposite arm. He keeps steady while Felix picks up the bindings, tugs the straps tight one by one. Felix is being careful, making sure that nothing will chafe. Dimitri is dripping down the inside of his thighs.

When Felix is finished, he brushes lightly at the nape of Dimitri's bent neck before he stands and comes back around. "You have to tell me if it starts to hurt," he says, looking down at Dimitri. "Don't be stupid."

Dimitri angles a grin up at him. "I wouldn't dare." There's the thrum of enchantment at his elbows, winding round his hands. They'll hold, he thinks. He'll hold.

Felix snorts. With the toe of his boot, he nudges at the juncture where Dimitri's knees press together. "Don't turn shy now," he says. "Let me see you."

A noise slips out from between Dimitri's teeth as he clenches around nothing. Felix doesn't say anything more. He's waiting. Watching, as Dimitri spreads his legs, knees scraping along the carpet. Cool air brushes against his dick, and Felix can certainly see the tightening of Dimitri's belly, the slick shine at the top of his thighs. Can probably smell him, his arousal, on his knees and hard for Felix.

"That's good," says Felix, "good, just like that," and takes one step forward.

Felix's boot, planted square between Dimitri's legs, smells faintly of leather and wax. Dimitri's mouth waters. " _Felix_ ," he says, a hoarse, wet sound. If he shifted his hips a fraction, he'd be rutting on it.

He doesn't. He keeps still, straining with the effort. There are tremors running down his arms, down his spine, a whine caught in his throat. Eye closed, like that might make it easier, like he's not aware of Felix in every stretched-thin nerve.

"Look at you," says Felix, low, as tender as he gets. "I don't even have to touch you." 

The boot comes up, sliding across his hole, smearing the wetness there. Further, to press slick and solid against the underside of Dimitri's dick. It's gone before he can grind down, dropping away to drag against the inside of his thigh and coming back wetter. 

There are fingers gripping Dimitri's chin, raising it up. "Hey," says Felix. "Dimitri. Look at me."

It's impossible. Dimitri does it anyway, wrenching his eye open to gaze up at Felix's face. The firelight softens the sharpness of his features, and there's a reddish glow splashed across his cheeks. Oh, Dimitri thinks, a fist clenched around his heart. That's what he's doing to Felix. 

"You're going to come on my boot," says Felix. "Not on my hand, and not on my cock. You're going to get yourself off, just like this, because that's what I want." His fingers tighten at Dimitri's jaw, then loosen. "Aren't you?"

Dimitri doesn't touch Felix, on nights like these; but he lets Felix touch him. He tilts into Felix's grip, and Felix understands enough to uncurl his fingers, stroking the line of his jaw until Dimitri can press a kiss to the center of Felix's palm. "I told you," he rasps into the thunderous calm. "Any way you want, you have me."

He's not going to last long. The boot coming back between his legs is wet, wet, wet, and Felix's touch like a brand at his jaw. The slide of leather along his dick, firm and strong and nearly too much, pressing again at his aching hole. The pleasure builds inevitably, like a slow-rolling wave. He's still looking at Felix. His dark eyes, his bitten-red mouth. He misses so much when he doesn't look.

It's Felix bringing him to the brink, Felix carrying him through. "Oh," Dimitri says, falling, tumbling, "Felix, please," and Felix smiles, touches his trembling mouth as he comes.

Afterwards, Felix undoes the restraints, peels the straps sweat-sticky from Dimitri's arms. "Get off the floor," he says with some embarrassment, "we have a perfectly nice bed," but Dimitri's legs feel like water still, and he likes being on his knees for Felix, besides. 

"Come here," he says instead, "let me see to you," and gestures Felix into a chair.

Felix sits, suspicious. "What?" he says, and Dimitri steadily gazes at his slick-shiny boot until Felix looks, too.

"Oh," he says, going redder. "Yes, well, you've made a mess."

"Let me take care of it for you," Dimitri says.

Felix makes a strangled sound, throws a forearm over his eyes. Dimitri waits for him. " _Why,_ " he says after a moment, but he's lifting the boot, towards Dimitri, and that's all Dimitri needs.

The flex of Felix's ankle when Dimitri first presses his mouth to the leather; his bitten-off groan when he starts to lick, his tongue running over the rounded toe. Felix is going to complain, later, about the proper way to take care of his boots. Dimitri doesn't care.

Felix hasn't stopped him yet. He lifts the boot higher, rubs his cheek against the firm length of Felix's shin. He's warm, happy, nearly drunk on it.

"You're ridiculous," Felix says, gruff, low, and leans forward to sink his hand into Dimitri's hair. He tugs, just for a second, then scratches gently along Dimitri's scalp.

"You're ridiculous," Felix says, but there's color on his face and the corner of his mouth curls up, soft; at this angle, it's easy for Dimitri to smile and murmur, "I love you," into the leather.


End file.
